By accepting the presence and counterbalance of the completely unreal and strange, we might even begin to be able to appreciate the facts. You can start right now by accepting that I like being cold...
Someone once told me she knew it was cold because I was wearing a jacket. She was right. Ordinarily, I would not wear a jacket, especially during winter. Truth is I like being cold.
That simple statement raises eyebrows alongside the fact that I don't often wear jackets or jerseys in winter. It's sort of on par with statements like, 'I believe in Father Christmas' or 'I want a shotgun for my birthday'. It seems to challenge people to prove me wrong or convince me otherwise.
Fact is, I really like being cold. I hate sweat and the way it runs into my eyes or makes me feel squelchy. I like the clear knowledge that I won't sweat in winter. I enjoy being cold because it makes getting warm, in the sense of crawling under the blankets with a book, that much more pleasant. And, from a biological point of view, it is easier to get warm in winter than it is to get cold in summer.
So, why do people try to convince me that something I experience as a fact is actually wrong?
Reality is a programme that consists of a set of rules. The programme is not particularly inclusive, it is slow to learn, and it tends to ignore or argue with facts that it cannot fit within its parameters.
For instance, try and wrap your head around the idea that many gorillas, at least many of those that are haven't been shot, eaten or sold to optimistic buyers looking for a cute pet, make nests in trees, in spite of the fact that they don't have wings or lay eggs. Or try the fact that the female brown trout fakes orgasms. Or that the cute little platypus has a venom that is so painful the agony can last for months and can cause heart attacks.
All these facts are documented. All of them fall out of the head quite easily as they appear entirely unreal. In fact, they slip outside of the parameters of the programme so easily, that we can quite comfortably refuse to believe the evidence that stands in plain sight. For instance, the Boer President Paul Kruger refused to believe in giraffes as they were not mentioned in the Bible. Yet strangely enough everyone still believes in the 'Kruger millions', even though nobody has ever set eyes on them.
My guessing is that the human brain is just not wired for too much complexity. It reacts to complexity by observing the reactions of others and absorbing interpretations of that reaction. And when that complexity becomes too much, we all head out for beer or get into arguments, if not with the neighbours then with the neighbouring country, or any country for that matter.
Unfortunately this leaves room for error, especially if you add beer or politics to the mix. For instance denial of the brown trout's fake orgasm, the existence of giraffes and the idea that democracy is a suitable substitute for peaceful coexistence and respect for others, even if they do look and think different, and eat stuff that makes even Bear Grylls gag.
So, my suggestion, in the interests of world peace, is that we should all spend a day or two every year, trying to believe in something different, for instance UFOs or that the people with the dog farm next door might actually be decent people. It might be difficult, but if we can start with the UFOs and work our way up to the neighbours, we may even be able to form political opinions that aren't influenced by whether or not the candidate inhaled or not, how the candidate's wife dresses or what Kim Kardashian or someone like that said, no matter how sensible the person sounds in comparison to the candidates.
By accepting the presence and counterbalance of the completely unreal and strange, we might even begin to be able to appreciate the facts. You can start right now by accepting that I like being cold, and that I respect your enjoyment of being hot although you will get melanomas if you hang out in the sun too long.
And even if accepting the more outrageous facts doesn't result in a jump in IQ, at least it will give us something to talk about when complexity becomes too much and we have to go and hang out in a pub.
So we have the 'cold' thing in common. I live in Alberta, Canada where the winter temperatures can go down to -40C - yep cold! However, I walk my dog in those temperatures when the local Canadians think I'm out of my mind...I should add I immigrated from England. It is a dry heat/cold here unlike the constant damp I was used to, so the temperatures are startling but don't seep into your bones. My office colleques are always complaining its cold in the office but it's +21 for goodness sake! Warm enough for me. I am also of the thought that there are stranger things in the cosmos than we mere humans can comprehend - and for that I'm very grateful.
ReplyDeleteI've often thought of moving to northern Canada or Alaska for the snow and ice (and landscapes). It would probably also reduce the length of my 'to read' list. We also have the dry heat / cold combination a lot of the time (Namibia) and can spend hours talking about the weather, but particularly the texture and density of clouds. It's the same thing here with the jackets and complaints coming out (at approximately 18 C), but it only drops to -5C a couple of days every winter.
ReplyDeleteNamibia is a learning experience for tourists. They arrive in T-shirts, seeking the warm sunny days of Africa during their summer holidays and our midwinter. It's endlessly amusing watching them stare up at the blue, blue skies in disbelief as they try to bring their shivering under control.